Two Steps Back
by star wars for Jesus
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi discusses the details of cryptic mission with a Jedi Master.


Despite its crisped exterior, Obi-Wan Kenobi noted, this unknown planet was actually quite frigid. Wind, cold and dry and ash-laden, constantly buffeted him, driving breath from his lungs, and he began to feel chill tremor up his spine. His fingers twitched numbly, their nerves lulled into submission long ago, refusing to obey when he tried to clear his streaming eyes. He had to shove them under his robes just to get them to cooperate once more, had to clench and unclench his fists just to curl his fingers around the tiny comm-link resting on his belt.

Flipping the device open, Obi-Wan activated it. Then he waited. Bid his time till the torrent of static dissolved, allowing in a firm, somewhat-pique voice to rumble in its place.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips—which had already blistered, thanks to the incessant wind—to the com-speaker. "Master, could be you repeat that, please?"

"…_Where…in…blazes…are you?_" the voice demanded, choppy beneath another barrage of static. "_Sounds…like…you're in…a…solar storm_."

"I…I'm actually not so certain, Master," Obi-Wan admitted. He tilted his head, squinting up at the bleeding mauve horizon. "To be honest with you, I've never encountered a world such as this; empty, apparently lifeless, and without a name I can find. It's as if it simply didn't exist." A shrug. "I'd rather not be here at all, but the situation warrented it. Dantooine was quite a bit farther from—well, you-know-where—as I'd first expected."

"_That was careless of you, Jedi Kenobi_," the voice remarked. Obi-Wan could practically picture the owner shaking his head, as if he were addressing a particularly daft child. "_You know this mission can't be stalled any longer. If it evades our grasp for much longer, the chance of bringing this entire affair to a close will be lost, and we could be responsible for irreparable damage to any number of star systems. We might have another emerging sect on our hands—something far worse than any Sith or Dark Acolytes_."

Smothering a sigh, the young Jedi dragged a hand over his face. "Do you really think it was wise, allowing Anakin to accompany me? He's still so young, so reckless. If he had any idea of what we were doing—what _I'm_ doing, really—he could try to take matters into his own hands. Or if he came across—"

"_If he comes across_ _your quarry_," the voice cut in drily, "_then we have bigger issues to fret over than your padawan's brash decisions."_

Conceding, Obi-Wan nodded grimly. The individual he was after—dubbed "it" by the Jedi Council—was certainly not one to be crossed lightly. He wasn't so certain he'd even _survive_ such an encounter, much less be able to return "it" to Coruscant unharmed; a possibility which, no doubt, was beginning to cloud his mind like soured eopie urine. Leaving Anakin alone to the whims of a harsh, vindictive galaxy when he'd already been stripped of so much…the thought left him breathless, stooping beneath the sheer gravity of what that might mean for his needy padawan.

Like some primal beast guarding its hoard, the boy was bound to become someone—some_thing_—terrible if he ever lost another loved-one.

Mercifully, the voice sounded once more in his com, jolting him of his morose line of thought. "_Are you aware of your coordinates at the moment, Jedi Kenobi_?"

Thankful that the speaker couldn't see him, Obi-Wan sent the sky—now nothing more than hazy, lavender swirl against a stark ebony background—a withering glare. That made two failures for the day, then. Like he'd taken a step forward, only to take two more back. "I'm afraid I can't say, Master. Being several miles from the our ship, I'd have to contact Anakin if I wanted to know, and I'm that doing so would only alert him to our plans. I can send my coordinates via scrambled transmission once I return, but I'm afraid I cannot do it any sooner."

"_I can wait_," the voice said. A brief chattering issued from the background, then: "_You should take heart, Jedi Kenobi. This mission isn't the likes of which an orthodox Jedi would undertake—or _should_, for that matter—and you're doing far better than any of the Council predicted. Just maintain your good judgment, and all should go well for you. May the force be with you, Obi-Wan."_

"And with you, Master Windu," Obi-Wan responded weakly, disengaging the link.

Sighing, he stuffed the device into his tunic, turned back toward where he'd came. Now that night was steadily encroaching, he felt absolutely assailed by the cold; icy winds drove into him constantly, blasting his exposed skin like a flower behind a turbo engine. What little heat there was, it very well wasn't coming from the sun, the watery orange disk creating the slightest ray of light on the horizon as if it were a lip peeking up from a giant's head. The clouds were beginning to dissipate along with it, which was hardly a good sign: with nothing to reflect it back, of the remaining heat trapped in the jet-black soil underfoot would soon be lost to space, leaving him cold, alone, and in utter blackness. After all, he had yet to spot any hints of a moon, couldn't catch even the slightest pinprick of star dotting the darkening sky.

Head tucked to his chest, Obi-Wan trudged on, anxiety heightening with every step. He should've been in the sight of the ship by now, surely. Yet here was, plodding in the middle of night-shadowed desert, with forty-five minutes of walking accomplished and not a thing to show for it. Except blisters, in every imaginable place, screeching with every movement for him to stop and acquiesce to their plaintive demands.

Finally, Obi-Wan withdrew his com-link from his tunics. "Anakin? Anakin, are you there?"

A faint rustle sounded, as if someone were groping clumsily for the device. "_Master?"_

Relief crashed into him like a might ocean breaker, nearly knocking him from his feet. "Anakin, I couldn't find any sign of any local civilization. What's worse, I seem to have lost my bearings, and…well, I'm rather addled. Is there any way you can located me on the scanners?"

"_I can—but why didn't we use those in the first place, Master? It would've saved you an awful lot of walking, don't you think?"_

Feeling a tad guilty, Obi-Wan toyed with edges of his beard. True be told, he hadn't really been that far off from the ship when he'd contacted Master Windu. Far enough that Anakin wouldn't be able to catch his shape against the stark black sand, yes—but not so much for the return journey to give him any trouble. Funny, how his main concern had been escaping his padawan's notice; now, all he wished was the learner would somehow teleport him back to Coruscant, were hot meals, clean clothes, and warms sleeping mats silently begged for his return. "I…wanted to be positively sure, Anakin. You can hardly trust everything to scanners, now can you?"

"_I guess not,"_ the boy replied in a mild tone. He made a sharp, clucking sound. "_Alright, the scanners are on. Sit tight, Master; I'll have your location in no time."_

As Obi-Wan waited for their ship to drop into view, he sensed something…odd…working through his. It felt like warmth, like the pleasant caress of a candle against his skin, but that couldn't be possible. He was in the middle of a wasteland, a virtual tundra, and for all he could tell, the winds were as strong as ever. Remaining on his feet took about every square inch of strength his body could muster, leaving him gasping in its dry, blustery face, forcing him to drop to his knees. Persuading him to lie down, to embrace the trill of warmth flickering over his skin.

Vision clouding, Obi-Wan felt his eyelids dragging closed…and let them.


End file.
